


You're Rambling

by all_ships_are_my_otp



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bighead as the ultimate wingman, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Star Wars bashing, also Carla is cool
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-21 21:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/all_ships_are_my_otp/pseuds/all_ships_are_my_otp
Summary: Coffee Shop AU: Pre Season 1. Gilfoyle works at a coffee shop. Dinesh goes there every day during Gilfoyle’s shift to work on his app. It’s purely coincidental. And not because he likes Gilfoyle or anything. Because, you know, Dinesh is totally straight and not into guys. Right?





	1. Two places where Dinesh is distracted

Dinesh was sitting at his desk, sifting through error logs while trying not to punch his computer monitor in frustration. He’d been living in Erlich’s incubator for two weeks, but his app had barely improved since he’d initially pitched it to Erlich.

 

He glanced over to Richard, who was busy writing unintelligible algorithms on the whiteboard, and Bighead, who was leaning back into his desk chair, staring off into space. The only reason Dinesh had wanted to live in an incubator in the first place was so that he would have like-minded engineers to bounce ideas off of and hang out with. Richard and Bighead were OK guys, but they weren’t that talkative during the work day. And whenever they hung out after work, Dinesh just felt like a third wheel among two best friends.

 

The front door suddenly swung open. Erlich entered with two prospective incubees in tow.

 

“And this is where the magic happens,” he said with a grand gesture. “My incubator. Home to the next hottest companies Silicon Valley—the next Google, Facebook, Snapchat...maybe even Aviato.”

 

“I’m sorry, what was that last company again?”

 

Erlich scowled at the offending incubee and Dinesh stifled a laugh. He looked over to Richard and Bighead, but as usual neither thought the situation was particularly funny. In fact, Dinesh was beginning to wonder whether they had noticed Erlich and his guests at all.

 

Dinesh decided to try to ignore Erlich and just concentrate on work. But Erlich’s boisterous house tour was making that extremely difficult.

 

“Now, gentlemen, the best aspect of my incubator—beside the opportunity to innovate alongside the brightest minds in the Valley, of course—is the freedom you will possess here. No dumbass meetings, no weekly checkups. You can smoke weed, use the pool, have sex. Not that you’ll be having any—once any of your ladyfriends see me, I’ll be all she has eyes for. I am speaking from experience, of course.”

 

Dinesh watched Richard and Bighead slowly glance each other and put on headphones to drown the noise out. He cursed his inability to concentrate on programming while listening to music. Hopefully Erlich’s visitors would pitch their apps soon. They’d be terrible as usual and Dinesh would be able to get back to work within the hour.

 

Erlich continued his house tour, somehow managing to be louder and more obnoxious the longer the tour went. _Shut up shut up shut up shut up…_ After some time, Erlich commanded one of the guys to pitch his app.

 

“Great—just let me grab some stuff from my truck first,” the guy said.

 

Two minutes later, he returned with a huge cardboard box, containing a humanoid robot, a sleek electric guitar and a bulky guitar amp. He plugged the amp in, which let off a high-pitched loud noise. _Not only am I never going to finish my app in this hellhole, I’ll be deaf before I turn thirty._

 

“Now, picture this—robots playing rhythm guitar,” the guy yelled over the sound of the robot’s out-of-tune guitar playing.

 

Dinesh’s shared desk vibrated to the beat of the cacophony. He glanced at Erlich, who was grinning excitedly. Fuck. It looked like this pitch wouldn’t be over quickly after all.

 

 _Fuck this_. Dinesh stuffed his laptop into his backpack and shuffled outside as quickly as possible. He’d just go work at the nearest Starbucks or something.

 

\--

 

Turns out, there wasn’t a Starbucks within ten miles of Erlich’s house. Apparently it was was too mainstream for Erlich’s neighborhood. The nearest coffee shop Dinesh could find on Google Maps was instead a tiny hole-in-the-wall place called _Carla’s Coffee_ with a single five-star review that said nothing but “good coffee, good internet”. _That’s good enough for me._ The place was a mile away, and since Dinesh didn’t have a car and didn’t feeling walking back inside to ask Erlich for his van, Dinesh reluctantly decided to walk.

 

The place looked even shabbier than the Google Maps pictures made it out to be. Dinesh stepped inside. It smelled like coffee, weed and dark chocolate.

 

“Hi, welcome to Carla’s Coffee, I’m Carla, can I take your order?”

 

Dinesh wasn’t much of a coffee person. “Can I have, um, an iced tea.”

 

“Green or black?”

 

 _I don’t know. I usually just drink Red Bull and alcohol._ “Uh, green I guess?”

 

He paid, grabbed his drink and sat down. He opened his laptop and began to work on his app.

 

Almost immediately, Dinesh was able to zone out and completely concentrate on his work. His fingers flew across the keyboard—he hadn’t been this productive in weeks. Dinesh reached for his drink and realized it was empty. He glanced at the clock. _3:10. Have I really been here for three hours already?_

 

He didn’t want to go back to the incubator just yet, but he also didn’t want to seem like a freeloader. So Dinesh decided order another tea. He glanced at the counter. Carla had been replaced by a tall guy with glasses, a well-trimmed beard and a facial expression so neutral Dinesh couldn’t help but wonder what he was really thinking.

 

A woman was currently placing her order, so Dinesh stood behind her.

 

“I’d like a grande cinnamon roll frappuccino, please,” she said self-assuredly.

 

Beard Guy looked at her and narrowed his eyes, not speaking.

 

Confused at his silence, the woman repeated her order. “Excuse me...I’m not sure if you heard me. I’d like a grande cinnamon roll frappuccino, please?”

 

“I know _what_ you said,” Beard Guy said in a voice that was deep and smooth and probably the sexiest voice Dinesh had ever heard. _Wait, since when am I into random guys’ voices?_ “I was just given you a second chance not to fuck up.”

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“This isn’t fucking Starbucks, and I’m not some broke college kid making minimum wage by mixing syrup with shitty coffee and ice to make shitty smoothies. Just order something off of the fucking menu, which by the way is going to taste a hell of a lot better than the shit-flavored piss you originally wanted. And one more thing—what the hell is a grande. We speak English. It’s called a fucking medium.”

 

Hot damn. It took all the self-control Dinesh had not to burst into laughter. This guy was a savage.

 

“Excuse me? What’s wrong with you? I’d like to speak to your manager,” she said in a huff.

 

“Sure thing,” Beard Guy said. “Hey Carla!” he yelled. “A customer is pissed at me again.”

 

Carla walked out from the back room of the cafe. “What the hell?” she muttered. “I told you to stop insulting everyone who walks in.”

 

“But this one deserved it. She asked for a frappuccino. A fucking cinnamon roll frappuccino.”

 

“OK fine, you’re right on this one, but seriously? Ten minutes after your shift starts?” Carla hissed. She then turned to address the angry customer. “Ma’am, I’m sorry for my employee’s strong language. But I must insist you order off of the menu.”

 

“After that display?” the woman said, gesturing to Beard Guy. “He verbally assaulted me! You should have him fired. As if I’m buying anything from you now! I’m going to write an extremely negative review online,” she said in a huff, and stormed out of the cafe.

 

As soon as the door slammed shut, Beard Guy and Carla cracked up. Dinesh couldn’t help but notice how Beard Guy’s eyes lit up when he laughed.

 

“See, Carla? I told you she deserved it.”

 

Carla rolled her eyes. “I’m not disagreeing with you, but we can’t drive all of our potential customers away just because this neighborhood is full of pretentious assholes.”

 

“I’ll just hack Yelp and delete her negative review like I’ve done with all the others.” Beard Guy said flippantly. _Holy shit, this guy can code too?_

 

Carla sighed, half exasperated and half affectionate. “Look—I gotta go. Just don’t be a dick to any more customers today, okay? Even if they deserve it.”

 

Carla left, and Dinesh shuffled slowly to the cash register.

 

“Um, another green iced tea please?”

 

When Beard Guy wordlessly turned around to prepare the drink, Dinesh couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. He had kind of hoped Beard Guy would talk to him. Or at least insult his choice of drink. The guy didn’t even say “Here you go” or “Have a nice day” when he handed Dinesh his drink.

 

Dinesh returned to his laptop and resumed work, but he wasn’t getting much done. He couldn’t help but to glance over to the counter. Constantly. Beard Guy seemed to wordlessly serve most customers, but would occasionally get annoyed by a few customers’ orders. Dinesh was sitting too far away from the counter to hear the specifics. But Dinesh was able to see the contemptuous way the guy would smirk for a moment before regaining his composure, and hear the sound of the guy’s soft, baritone voice as he reluctantly followed Carla’s orders and steered the customer towards an order that was actually on the menu.

 

Dinesh looked back at his computer screen and realized it was shortly after 4pm. _Wait, have I been staring at that guy for an hour?_ Realizing he wasn’t going to get anything else done here— _because the noise here is distracting, not because of anybody in particular_ \---Dinesh gulped down the last of his drink and packed up his things.

 

As he walked out, he may have accidentally glanced over to Beard Guy one more time and Beard Guy may have briefly returned the eye contact. Cheeks immediately flushing, Dinesh jerked his gaze down to the ground and didn’t back until he had long left the cafe.

 

–

 

On the next day, Richard was drumming his fingernails incessantly on their shared desk. Dinesh looked at the time. 2:45pm. He wondered if Beard Guy started his shift every day at 3pm. Dinesh looked at Richard, who probably wasn’t going to stop fidgeting any time soon. He stuffed his laptop in his backpack and headed over to _Carla’s Coffee._ For no other reason other than that it was far too noisy in the incubator. Obviously.

 

Sure enough, Carla had just clocked out for the day and was about to leave the cafe. Dinesh ordered a green tea. Once again, Beard Guy fulfilled his request wordlessly.

 

Dinesh absentmindedly worked on cleaning up his code and observing Beard Buy. _Man, I really need to find out his real name. Or at least give him a better nickname_. After all, there was so much more to this guy than his perfectly-groomed facial hair. He had a voice that sent ( _totally not homosexual_ ) chills up Dinesh’s spine when he heard it. He was fucking hilarious. Oh, and on top of all of that, he could code.

 

Beard Guy only had one outburst today—at a tall man with biceps pouring out of his fitted T-Shirt who had asked for a protein shake. Dinesh wondered what Beard Guy would look like in a fitted T-Shirt.

 

–

 

For the next few weeks, Dinesh slipped into a regular routine. Endure Erlich’s incubator in the morning, and get fed up with the noise at precisely 2:45pm. Order a green iced tea, wish Beard Guy would at least say something to him, and settle for observing him while working. Only a few times did he notice Dinesh’s staring. Dinesh would always quickly look away and dive back into his app.


	2. Two things that Gilfoyle (aka Beard Guy) fixes

Dinesh had been struggling with a bug in his code for the last few hours. Since _Carla’s Coffee_ closed at seven, he usually tried to leave at around six. But today, it was 6:30pm and Dinesh decided not to leave until he was able to fix the aggravating bug.

 

He tried to google a relevant error message, but for some reason the internet wasn’t working. After a bit of troubleshooting, Dinesh deduced that it seemed to be a problem with the coffee shop’s internet. Dinesh looked around. There was only one other table that was occupied, and the two people sitting there were just talking. Dinesh looked at the counter. Beard Guy seemed to be absorbed in some sort of book.

 

Dinesh slowly stood up and walked over to the counter. _No, those are not butterflies in your stomach. You’re just hungry. Or full. Or something._ “Um, hi,” he said nervously.

 

Beard Guy widened his eyes ever so slightly in shock. He must have been so absorbed in the book he was reading that he didn’t notice Dinesh approach. Despite Dinesh’s best attempts to catch a glimpse at the cover of the book, all he saw was a flash of red as Beard Guy deftly slid it between two huge jugs of coffee beans behind the counter.

 

“Another tea?” the guy asked.

 

Dinesh melted because _oh my goodness he remembered me_. He took a deep breath and regained his composure. “Um, no, actually, I think the internet’s down.”

 

“Have you tried turning your laptop off and back on again?” the guy said monotonously.

 

“Hey!” Dinesh said indignantly. “I’m a professional programmer, in fact a really fucking _good_ one. I tried rebooting network card, updating my drivers, and yes, turning my laptop off and back on again. The problem isn’t my laptop, it’s your router. So how about you go take a look at your shitty router and turn _it_ off and on again?”

 

Dinesh froze after his outburst, worrying he’d pissed the guy off. Not that that should be a problem...after all, he was just some guy, at some coffee shop, and Dinesh didn’t actually know him, and shouldn’t care about his opinion, right?

 

The guy smiled slightly and Dinesh melted yet again. “I know you’re a programmer...what else would you have been doing here for the last past few weeks? I was just messing with you, asshole. The router’s over there,” he said, gesturing to a corner of the cafe. “Let’s go take a look.”

 

Beard Guy walked over to the router and Dinesh followed, unsure if he was supposed to follow. The “router” was just a mess of exposed wires and circuit boards.

 

“What type of router is that supposed to be?” Dinesh blurted out before he could stop himself.

 

“Made it myself,” Beard Guy muttered as he bent down to take a closer look at the mess of cables. His shirt rode up slightly, revealing a crescent of his lower back. Dinesh were immediately drawn to it. He didn’t look away, because if would have looked away, it would mean he would be admitting that he was attracted to this dude, which he totally wasn’t, because he was 100% straight. _Yes. That is sound logic_. “Not only is getting internet way cheaper this way, it makes our it way faster than the shitty internet at most other public places.”

 

So not only was this guy was apparently a great hacker, he was also a fucking genius with hardware. Fucking fantastic. As if Dinesh needed more reasons to like him. In a totally non-gay way of course.

 

“Ugh, looks like some asshole spilled coffee on it and fried the system again,” Beard Guy muttered. “Be right back.”

 

Dinesh watched him retreat to the back of the cafe, and definitely didn’t watch the way the guy’s pants fit just right. After Beard Guy was gone for a minute, Dinesh quickly grabbed his laptop and decided to troubleshoot the bug in his app while he waited. There weren’t any tables nearby, so Dinesh sat on the floor next to the broken internet setup and rested his laptop in his lap.

 

A few minutes later Beard Guy returned with an overstuffed toolbox and set to work, wordlessly replacing wires and using a soldering iron effortlessly as if it were an extension of his body. Dinesh watched him work, mesmerized, until he realized he was probably being weird. He forced himself to look back down at his laptop screen, going through the error messages for any clues.

 

It was shortly before seven when the guy finally stood up with a satisfied look on his face. “There—it should be working now.” He packed up his toolbox—just barely managing to compress its contents tightly enough to close its lid--and carried it back to the back of the cafe.

 

Sure enough, Dinesh’s laptop immediately connected to the internet. Dinesh started to browse Stack Overflow to see where the error in his program could lie. Nothing was coming up. “I hate this fucking bug,” he muttered.

 

“Mind if I take a look?” a smooth, low voice said from behind him, and Dinesh jumped. Beard Guy was crouching right behind him and peering at his code over his shoulder. In order to get a closer look, he rested his head on Dinesh’s shoulder. His hair smelled like coffee. Usually Dinesh didn’t like the scent of coffee, but on this guy it was pleasant. Dinesh could feel his breath on his cheek. It felt warm.

 

“Uh, sure,” Dinesh said, handing him his laptop without a second thought ( _wait, so I just trust this guy I just met with my entire codebase?_ ) “But it’s kind of a complicated and technical Java bug, and, well, I’ve spent a few hours already debugging it, and I’m pretty much a Java expert, so you might not get anywhere by just looking--”

 

“Got it,” the guy said. “Memory leak. Look at line 243. Seems to be a C bug.”

 

“How did you--”

 

“I might not know everything about Java, but I do know that the shitty engineers who cobbled together the pile of shit programming language that is Java used C. And I happen to be an expert in systems engineering, and in particular C---the programming language used to build most modern systems.”

 

Dinesh snatched his laptop back and fixed the memory leak in the incriminating line of code. Sure enough, the program worked.

 

“You’re welcome,” Beard Guy said smugly.

 

“I would have figured it out eventually,” Dinesh insisted, embarrassed. “I know C too, you know.”

 

“Oh, I’m not doubting your abilities,” Beard Guy said cryptically.

 

Dinesh didn’t know what to say to that. The two sat on the floor of the cafe in silence.

 

“Wait a minute...” Dinesh said slowly. “I can use that C trick to speed up the whole system! If I just change the way data is stored on the core platform...” A hundred lines of code he needed to change popped into his mind at once. His fingers flew across the keys, barely keeping up with his racing mind. “This is going to be way faster than what I had...”

 

As Dinesh became absorbed in his work, he completely forgot that he was sitting on the floor in a coffee shop that was about to close. He certainly didn’t notice the intrigued look on Beard Guy’s face as he silently observed Dinesh.

 

A while later, Dinesh had made all of the changes. After testing his app for errors and speed—it really did run much more smoothly—he snapped out of his trance-like state remembered where he was (and who he was sitting next to).

 

Dinesh glanced at the clock on his laptop. It was 9pm. He had been sitting on the ground coding nonstop for just over two hours. Wait, shit. The cafe closed at 7pm. _Fuck, Beard Guy is gonna be pissed._

 

Dinesh shut down his laptop and stood up. It felt good to stretch his legs. Beard Guy was standing behind the counter, reading that same book and looking at him with an odd expression.

 

“Shit man,” Dinesh said, “I’m so sorry for imposing. You could have kicked me out, you know.”

 

“It’s fine,” Beard guy said quickly.

 

“I wouldn’t have intentionally stayed two hours past closing time, really, I guess I was just absorbed in what I was doing and--”

 

“It was fine. Really. I had stuff to do anyway.”

 

Beard Guy smiled at him widely. Dinesh was so surprised at this sudden display of emotion that he couldn’t help but grin back. Then he realized he probably looked like an idiot and decided to leave before he could embarrass himself even further.

 

“Thanksagainokaybye,” he said hastily as he hastily shoved his laptop into his backpack and rushed out the door.


	3. Two conversations with Bighead

Dinesh practically skipped home after the encounter. Sure, he embarrassed himself in front of Beard Guy by missing a fucking obvious bug, accidentally staying a two hours after closing time, and smiling at him like a fucking creep. But besides that, the day had gone well. He had actually talked to Beard Guy for once. And of course, the more Dinesh got to know him, the more he realized how awesome the guy was.

 

When Dinesh arrived at the incubator, Richard, Bighead and Erlich were lounging on the couch.

 

“So, Dinesh,” Erlich said as soon as he entered the room. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Dinesh asked carefully, dumping his backpack at his desk and joining the guys in the living room.

 

“Oh don’t be coy,” Erlich said condescendingly, “You’ve been running off to your dates every day at precisely 3pm. Now today, you come back two hours later than usual, glowing as if you’d fucked the Goddess of Beauty Aphrodite herself.”

 

“Okay, well as much as I wish that were true, I’m not running off to fuck anybody,” Dinesh said bitterly. “For your information, I’ve been working on my app in coffee shops nearby, where it isn’t fucking loud all the time because of your annoying tours.”

 

Erlich was probably about to reply with a scathing remark about how the noise was conductive to innovation, but Bighead spoke first.

 

“So, um, man, anyway, you want to help me convince Richard that he’s gay?”

 

“Uh, what?” Dinesh asked, confused by the abrupt change of subject.

 

“Shut up, Bighead,” Richard muttered.

 

“No—listen to this. So, Richard meets this guy at work at Hooli, right, and his first instinct is to text me and tell me about how tall and graceful this guy is, and about his blue eyes, and how nice he is, and shit like that. He’s obviously gay for this dude, right?”

 

“I don’t even know his name,” Richard muttered indignantly.

 

Dinesh thought about Beard Guy, and how he liked the sound of his voice, his sense of humor, his rare but genuine smile, and the fact that he was a damn good engineer. He also remembered his look of intense concentration when he was fixing the internet at the coffee shop and the way his back looked when his shirt rode up. He wished he had the courage to strike up a conversation with the guy about anything besides green tea. He wished he at least knew his name.

 

“No,” Dinesh said slowly, “That stuff doesn’t make a guy gay, I mean, Richard, you like girls, right?”

 

“Yeah, I like girls. Girls are great,” Richard said in a tone that made it sound like he was mostly trying to convince himself. He took a sip of beer.

 

“Well there you go. You like girls. I like girls. We’re not gay,” Dinesh said. “Let’s change the subject.”

 

“Geez, you guys don’t need to be so defensive, I was just asking,” Bighead said. “You wanna play video games or something?”

 

“I should probably work more on my compression engine,” Richard said distractedly, heading back to his desk.

 

“Dinesh?” Bighead asked casually.

 

“Sure,” Dinesh said, surprised. Usually Bighead and Richard would just play without him.

 

Bighead picked out a game—Call of Duty. They played for a while in silence.

 

“Hey man,” Bighead said casually, breaking the silence. “So I know you told Erlich that you spend a lot of time outside of the house because it’s noisy when he does his tours...but I mean, you also leave when it’s quiet. If you got a job or something, you can just tell us, y’know.”

 

“It’s nothing like that,” Dinesh said quickly. “I just...like working in this one coffee shop I guess.”

 

“Oh, let me guess, it’s because of the barista, and she’s like, super hot,” Bighead said, taking a swig of beer during a loading screen.

 

Dinesh flushed. “No…?” he said softly.

 

Bighead laughed and reverted his eyes to the game. “Sure man, if you say so.”

 

–

 

At 2:45pm, Dinesh packed his things and leaves for _Carla’s Coffee_. Beard Guy is there, obviously, and he’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt, which looks really good on him, obviously, and _is that a tattoo of an upside-down cross?_ , and Dinesh suddenly realizes he’s staring and averts his gaze as he shuffles to the cash register.

 

“One green iced tea, please,” Dinesh said, smiling shyly despite himself.

 

Dinesh figured that after what happened yesterday, Beard Guy would at least say something to him. Like, “How goes the app”, or “How are you”, or at the very least “Here’s your tea.”

 

But no. The guy just looks at him with his stupid ( _kind of handsome_ ) intense gaze and wordlessly hands him his drink. As if Dinesh were a total stranger.

 

Feeling betrayed and embarrassed, Dinesh looked away from his gaze as he paid for his drink and sat down.

 

 _Fucking great,_ Dinesh thought. _The guy probably thinks I’m some creepy gay guy pining after him. Now he won’t even talk to me._ But the worst part was that it was true, and Bighead was right. On some level, for some messed-up reason, Dinesh felt seriously attracted to this guy. So, was he gay now? Bi? How did these things even work? Wait, was he seriously contemplating his sexuality because of some random guy? He didn’t even know his name!

 

Dinesh tried to ignore his internal line of questioning about his sexuality and instead focus on his app. Since he still felt sort of pissed at Beard Guy for ignoring him, it was slightly easier to stop glancing over to see what he was doing. (Usually, reading.) Of course Dinesh still did.

 

A few hours later, two young giggling women entered. They couldn’t have been older than twenty. They placed their order, and Dinesh instinctively looked to Beard Guy for his reaction. He noticed Beard Guy tense up and grinned—that meant another one of his outbursts.

 

Dinesh couldn’t hear all the details, but he certainly caught phrases like “are you fucking kidding me” and “fucking frappuccinos” and “you basically just ordered fried horse semen”. This was one of Beard Guy’s longer tirades. Dinesh watched him, and noticed how he was slightly out of breath from the long bursts of ranting and how his cheeks went slightly pink whenever he made brief eye contact with Dinesh.

 

After the women (surprisingly) didn’t storm out of the shop and instead placed different orders—satisfied, if not thrilled with their new drinks—Dinesh glanced at his own empty glass of iced tea and had an idea.

 

He wanted Beard Guy to talk to him, right? And what was one sure-fire way to get Beard Guy saying more than one word at a time?

 

Dinesh walked up to the counter, trying to hide the mischievous grin from his face.

 

“The usual?” Beard Guy said neutrally.

 

“Actually no,” Dinesh said, trying his best to suppress his laughter and keep his tone of voice suave, “You see, the iced tea just hasn’t been doing it for me recently. I was thinking of something different. Like maybe...a green tea flavored frappuccino?”

 

Up close, watching Beard Guy tense up was somehow both scarier and more exciting. “What?” he asked carefully.

 

“You know what I said,” Dinesh smirked.

 

This was the part where Beard Guy’s rant about how this wasn’t Starbucks usually came. But instead of yelling at Dinesh, Beard Guy shot him a wide smile. “Sorry, but we don’t serve frappuccinos. Can I offer you a green iced tea instead?” Beard Guy reached him a green iced tea he had apparently already prepared.

 

Dinesh stared at him numbly. First of all, where was Beard Guy’s angry tirade? And second of all, the drink was freshly made. (Dinesh could tell by the size of the ice cubes.) How did he know when Dinesh was going to order seconds?

 

Dinesh quickly paid for his drink and sat down, flustered and confused.

 

–

 

The next day, Dinesh asked for a Red Bull and paid for a green iced tea.

 

The day after that, it was a club sandwich.

 

Once he ordered a complicated five-course traditional Pakistani meal.

 

On another day, when his code was acting up, he ordered a REST module that actually worked.

 

Beard Guy would always just look at him with that same infuriatingly mysterious neutral expression, never interrupting him. After Dinesh finished his order, Beard Guy would smile widely at him and hand him a green iced tea. He didn’t even need to turn around anymore to make it. He somehow just knew when Dinesh would order his drink.

 

It certainly wasn’t regular conversation, but at least Dinesh got to enjoy the guy’s cute smile once or twice a day. _Wait, cute? No way did I just think that._

 

–

 

One night, Bighead and Dinesh were alone in the house. Erlich had left an hour ago, saying something about a party. Not really knowing what to talk about, the pair quickly decided to play video games.

 

“So, um, where’s Richard? I haven’t seen the guy all day,” Dinesh said.

 

Bighead made a few precise shots before responding. “Uh, you remember that guy from Hooli I told you about? The one Richard said he wasn’t gay for?”

 

“Yeah,” Dinesh said slowly.

 

“So funny story...Richard is spending the night at his house.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“His name is Jared.”

 

They played in silence for a while.

 

“How are you doing? With the cute barista?”

 

Dinesh paused, not sure what to say. “I...I guess I’ll tell you about it if you promise not to laugh. And not to tell the other guys. Even Richard.”

 

“Sure man,” Bighead said. “I get it. You just want to talk without everyone knowing your problems. So what’s up?”

 

“So...” Dinesh said, not sure where to start. “Even if I didn’t want to believe it at first, you were right. I’m kind of into the barista. I mean, it’s everything I could want in a person, you know? Attractive, funny, hell, even a great coder...like, usually I’d be all over that, right? But...he’s a guy.”

 

Bighead said nothing for a moment. Then, slowly, he started laughing. Quietly at first, and soon he was cracking up.

 

“What the hell man, why are you laughing at me? You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

 

Eventually, Bighead stopped laughing. “Oh no, I’m not laughing at you for liking a guy...I mean, you do you, man. I was just laughing because Richard said pretty much the exact same thing to me, like yesterday. Well, except the coding thing. Richard’s guy works in business development or something.”

 

“Well what did you say to Richard?”

 

“Uh, I dunno...I was pretty drunk. Or maybe high. Or both. I forget. Anyway I must have told him to go talk to him, since that’s apparently what Richard did today...” Bighead trailed off thoughtfully.

 

“Yeah, but Beard Guy is probably straight. And if I talk to him about all this, he’ll just think I’m a creep.”

 

“Wait, did you just call him Beard Guy? You don’t even know his name?”

 

Dinesh flushed in embarrassment. “He doesn’t wear a name tag, okay?”

 

“Look, maybe what you should do is put aside all this gay stuff for a moment and just think about getting to know the guy as a friend. Then you can see whether you both are interested in a relationship.” Bighead paused for a moment. “Hey, that sounds familiar! That must be what I said to Richard!”

 

Dinesh grinned. He couldn’t believe it had taken him this long to realize that Bighead was a genuinely cool and nice guy, even if he had his dumb moments. “Thanks man. For listening and everything. Talking about feelings is hard.”

 

“Don’t mention it,” Bighead said.

 

They spent the rest of the evening playing video games in silence, enjoying the comfort and simplicity of each other’s company.


	4. Two rainstorms

The next day, Dinesh was determined to figure out Beard Guy’s name. He had come up with the perfect way to ask.

 

“Hi,” Dinesh said suavely, “I’d like to order your name, please.”

 

His bathroom mirror didn’t respond (just like it hadn’t the last twenty times he’d practiced), but Dinesh was sure it would work perfectly in _Carla’s Coffee._

 

It was raining heavily in the afternoon. Of course it had to be fucking raining. California was in a drought, yet the weather defied all odds just to have Dinesh arrive in the coffee shop soaking wet on the one day his appearance might actually slightly matter. (Somehow, there were no umbrellas in Erlich’s house.) Dinesh removed his soaking wet jacket and made his way to the counter. Beard Guy was looking at him with an odd facial expression—eyes more intense than usual, skin flushed and he was biting his lower lip. Dinesh’s brain short-circuited ( _what the fuck, nobody has the right to_ _look_ _that sexy)_ and he completely forgot about his plan and instead said the first thing that came to his mind.

 

“I’d like to order a fucking umbrella, please.”

 

“Sorry, but we don’t serve umbrellas. May I offer you this iced tea instead?”

 

Wide smile, check. Iced tea, check. He could have sworn Beard Guy even laughed slightly.

 

 _Oh, shit. I forgot to ask his name._ In a rare show of confidence, Dinesh didn’t abandon his original plan.

 

“Oh, um also—I’d like to order your name, please?’

 

Beard Guy stared at him blankly.

 

Trying to repress his internal monologue (which was currently screaming _YOU ARE AN IDIOT_ on repeat), Dinesh tried again. “I said I’d like to order your name, please?” he said meekly.

 

Beard Guy looked at him suspiciously. “Well, what’s yours?”

 

“Dinesh.”

 

“Well, Dinesh Chugtai,” Beard Guy said slowly, “That’ll have to be a hard pass. See, my name is much more humiliating than yours.”

 

Dinesh may or may not have melted slightly when he heard Beard Guy say his name ( _wait how did he know my last name_ ) so he immediately blurted out his response:

 

“Well I have to know it. It’s weird to keep having to call you Beard Guy in my head.”

 

Once Dinesh realized what he had just said, he considered running out of the coffee shop and never coming back, ever. “Shit. I’m an idiot. Forget I said that.”

 

Beard Guy just looked at him. “Well, at least you got my initials right.”

 

Another customer walked in, and Dinesh figured he had embarrassed himself enough. He grabbed his drink and sat down at his usual table. He looked outside. The rain had stopped and the sun was starting to peak through the clouds.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Dinesh muttered under his breath. First being hopelessly attracted to some random guy. Then the weather. The universe was clearly out to get him.

 

–

 

By 6pm, all of the customers but Dinesh had cleared out of the cafe. (Thursdays were usually slow days.)

 

Fifteen minutes later, the thunderstorm started.

 

At 6:45pm, a notification popped up on Dinesh’s phone--”Severe Weather Alert: Thunderstorm. Strong winds, rain and hail possible. For safety reasons, please refrain from driving or being outdoors.”

 

He slowly stood up and went to face Beard Guy. “Hey, look at this,” he said, handing him his phone.

 

As Beard Guy read the email, his eyes crinkled up in amusement. “Well, fuck. It’s just a little rain. I guess you Californians are even bigger pussies than I thought.”

 

Outside, they heard a huge crash as a tree branch broke off due to a huge gust of wind. It shattered a window near Dinesh’s favorite table.

 

“SHIT my laptop! Shit shit shit!” Dinesh yelled as he sprinted to save his laptop and other personal belongings from the rain and broken glass.

 

When Dinesh returned with his belongings—which, miraculously, were still dry—Beard Guy was still smiling as if this were all one big joke.

 

Dinesh scowled. “Fuck you, I like my laptop.”

 

“So. What do we do?” Beard Guy asked...was that nervousness Dinesh detected in his voice?

 

“Well, I sure as hell can’t walk back to the incubator in this weather. Not without drowning, or catching pneumonia, or getting stuck by lightning.”

 

“Or worst of all, getting your laptop wet,” Beard Guy said sarcastically.

 

Dinesh ignored him. “So what,” he asked nervously. “We just stay here for the night?”

 

“Do we have any other options?”

 

Dinesh couldn’t think of anything, so he stayed silent. Outside, the rain poured down and the thunder boomed. Gusts of cold wind kept flowing through the broken wind. Dinesh shivered.

 

“If we’re really going to be spending the night here, we should probably stay in the back room,” Beard Guy said carefully. “It’s not too cramped. And we can close the door so the cold air doesn’t get in.”

 

Dinesh grabbed his belongings and followed him into the back room. It was cozy, but larger than he had expected. Piles of spare ingredients. Unorganized piles of papers next to a cheap printer. Warm, yellow light came from a few flickering lightbulbs on the ceiling. A small sofa, barely big enough for two. Next to it, a small space heater.

 

“Yes! Heat!” Dinesh cheered, beelining toward the space heater and turning it up as high as it could go. It had been really cold in the other room. He hugged the appliance tightly, wishing it would warm up faster. He turned around to look at Beard Guy, who was looking at him with an amused gaze. “Hey, where I come from in Pakistan, we don’t get weather this cold,” Dinesh said defensively.

 

“You call this cold?”

 

“Where are you from? Alaska?”

 

“Canada actually, but you were close. They’re both icy shitholes.”

 

The space heater had warmed up and was now too hot to touch. Not wanting to part from the constant source of heat, Dinesh sat down on the nearby sofa.

 

“So can I know your name now, B.G.? Since we’re going to be stuck here all night and all,” Dinesh said, trying to keep his voice casual.

 

Beard Guy’s cheeks turned pink. “Gilfoyle,” he muttered. “That’s my last name, but all my friends call me that. My first name is Bertram.”

 

“Holy shit that is an unfortunate name,” Dinesh said. “What, did your parents want you to have no friends? I guess I see why you go by Gilfoyle. At least that is kind of cool-sounding.”

 

Beard Guy—no, _Gilfoyle—_ laughed. “You know, you’re the first person to say that instead of waxing on about how my name is unique and therefore special and cool.”

 

 _How come every time I let my guard down, I end up embarrassing myself in front of this guy?_ “Um...sorry?”

 

“Don’t be. I agree with you completely.”

 

“Good,” Dinesh said, laughing nervously.

 

“Yeah,” Gilfoyle said.

 

They both stood there in silence, listening to the rain and thunder. Dinesh studied the pattern on the old, worn couch, trying to look at anything but Gilfoyle. He certainly didn’t need to embarrass himself any further. When Dinesh finally did briefly glance in his direction, he realized that Gilfoyle had been looking at him. Immediately, Gilfoyle averted his eyes.

 

“I’m kind of hungry. You want something to eat?”

 

“I thought you didn’t serve food here,” Dinesh said.

 

Gilfoyle didn’t respond, instead grabbing a half-empty box of cereal and two spoons from behind a stack of papers. “We don’t have bowls. I usually just eat it from the box. Dry.” Gilfoyle sat on the couch next to Dinesh. He took a bite of dry cereal, then handed Dinesh the other spoon and the box of cereal. “You want some?”

 

“Who the fuck eats dry cereal out of the box,” Dinesh said, but took a bite anyway and passed the box back to Gilfoyle.

 

Gilfoyle took another bite of cereal. “It’s better that way,” he said, voice muffled because his mouth was full. “More flavorful.”

 

“No, it’s fucking ridiculous.” Dinesh said, taking another bite anyway. He realized that he’d probably never be able to eat cereal with milk again. Every bite of dry cereal reminded him of Gilfoyle.

 

They bickered for a while about cereal until there was a lull in the conversation.

 

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Dinesh said slowly. “About this morning. How did you know my name?”

 

“Because you told me. Duh.”

 

“Don’t play dumb with me, asshole. I told you my first name. But then you somehow knew my last name as well.”

 

“Well,” Gilfoyle said, blushing. “There’s this Caltech shirt you wear a lot. And you sometimes have an Oxford hoodie. So I hacked into the student databases of all both schools and looked for matches. It wasn’t that hard.”

 

“Why would you do that?”

 

“Why not? I wanted to know the name of the guy who comes in here to code every afternoon.”

 

“Why didn’t you just ask me?”

 

“Why didn’t you just ask me my name?” Gilfoyle countered. Then he swiped the box of cereal from Dinesh and took another bite.

 

_Because I kind of have a big gay crush on you and don’t want you to think I’m being creepy by flirting with you._

 

“So...” Dinesh asked awkwardly, changing the subject. “How did you end up here?”

 

“I usually bike to work,” Gilfoyle deadpanned. “My car broke down a while ago and fixing it hasn’t exactly been in my budget.”

 

“You know what I mean. Here, as in Silicon Valley.”

 

“Uh...college in Canada, dropped out because Canada is a shithole, college in the US, dropped out because MIT is extremely easy. Now I work here.”

 

“Wait, what the shit? You’re an engineering genius. How has no company offered you a job?”

 

“My student visa expired when I dropped out. Technically, I’m here illegally. So tech companies are out of the question. I thought I’d be able to get by by doing unofficial tech support jobs. But it turns out, people in this town are actually able to use computers. Who would have thought. So this is my second job, and together with the tech support stuff it’s enough to pay rent and buy cereal. I work on my app in my free time. That’s all I need.”

 

“What’s your app do?”

 

“Wish I knew,” he said, laughing bitterly. “My ‘app’ idea changes every week. All of my ideas are too shitty to be worth building. I mean, if you give me a description of a product then I can build it, and I can build it better than anybody else...but fuck if I know what the next Snapchat is going to be.”

 

“You’re kidding me, right,” Dinesh said. “Dude. You are awesome. You can hack into, like, any website. Why not sell network security systems to businesses? Or you can somehow sell that fast router you built. Cheaper, faster internet? Who wouldn’t want that? And you’ve probably built way cooler shit that I just don’t know about yet.”

 

Gilfoyle’s cheeks turned pink. “If only things were that easy.”

 

“I didn’t say it’d be easy. I just said it’d definitely be possible for a guy as badass as you.”

 

“Like I said—if only things were that easy.” Gilfoyle took a bite of cereal. “What’s your app do?”

 

“It’s like Uber, but for favors,” Dinesh said.

 

Gilfoyle looked at him blankly. “So you want to be the pimp of the internet?”

 

“No! Not sexual favors,” Dinesh said hastily, his face flushing in embarrassment, “Just normal favors. Like cleaning or helping somebody move or something.”

 

Gilfoyle laughed. “Now that sounds fucking amazing. Most people are complete pussies. Can’t do any manual labor. And the pimp idea would have gone nowhere anyway. That’s why guys like us have Grindr.”

 

Dinesh gulped. “Guys like...us?” So that meant Gilfoyle was...interested in men? And that Gilfoyle thought he was interested in men as well?

 

“Fuck,” Gifoyle swore under his breath. “I mean...guys like me. I’m gay. But you’re straight. Obviously. Not into men in the slightest. Guys like me.”

 

Since Dinesh wasn’t brave enough to say _And what if I was attracted to men?_ he instead settled for the easy path—poking fun at Gilfoyle. “You’re rambling.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“I mean, I don’t mind or anything...that you’re gay...”

 

“I don’t need your pity.”

 

There was a loud sound of thunder, followed by a flash of lightning. Suddenly, something sizzled. The lights flickered out. It was pitch black. The sun had just set, and the only source of light was a small window in the back of the room.

 

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Gilfoyle said. “My router probably fried the system again. I guess I’ll go check the fuse box.”

 

Dinesh stood up and stumbled in the darkness to the window. He looked out the window, squinting. “Don’t bother. I think the power’s out on our whole block.”

 

“Fuck.” Gilfoyle paused and thought for a moment. “Wait. I think I have an extra battery lying around here somewhere. I’ll hook it up to one of the lightbulbs. That way we won’t have to sit around in the dark.”

 

Dinesh decided to locate his phone and use it as a temporary flashlight He was pretty sure he had set it down next to the couch, and tried to head back in that direction. All of a sudden, he collided into something warm and solid.

 

“Oof,” Gilfoyle grunted. “Sorry.”

 

Dinesh didn’t realize that he had been instinctively leaning into Gilfoyle’s body heat until Gilfoyle pointedly took a step to the side.

 

“Sorry,” Dinesh said automatically, feeling a rush of disappointment when they separated and wondering if it would be too obvious if he’d ‘accidentally’ crash into him a second time.

 

Dinesh made his way back to the couch. He turned on the flashlight on his phone.

 

“Hey Gilfoyle,” he said, shining it around the room, trying to locate Gilfoyle. “Would this help? My phone doesn’t have much battery left, but we can use it for a couple minutes.”

 

To Dinesh’s surprise, Gilfoyle had already located the battery and was attempting to shove his toolbox shut.

 

“Hey—what are you doing?” Gilfoyle said, an edge of panic in his voice.

 

Dinesh looked closer. He recognized the cover of the red book Gilfoyle frequently read on the job. “Why are you putting that book in your toolbox?”

 

“None—of—your—business!” Gilfoyle grunted as he pressed down on the lid of the toolbox with as much force as possible.

 

For a moment, Dinesh just sat there, brain short-circuiting. How was it possible that this guy’s voice could sound even hotter? Then he tried his best to clear his head, remembering the current conversation.

 

“Are you trying to hide that book from me or something?”

 

“Yes,” Gilfoyle said evasively, giving up on putting it in his toolbox. He scanned the room for other potential hiding places.

 

“You do know hiding that thing is pointless, right? I’ll see where you put it. What book is that, anyway?”

 

“If it were just any old book, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

 

“So it’s something really embarrassing. Like, a shitty self-help book or your diary or _Fifty Shades of Grey_ or something like that--”

 

“It’s private. If there is any human decency in you, you won’t read it.”

 

Dinesh desperately wanted to know what it was, but it was more important to him that Gilfoyle didn’t hate him.

 

“Fine, I won’t look. You could have just said so in the first place instead of being all weird about it.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

Gilfoyle grabbed the book and opened the door to the cafe’s counter and main seating area, probably to carefully hide it between jars of coffee beans again.

 

That had been the second time this afternoon that Gilfoyle had abruptly ended the conversation by saying ‘Fuck you’. Dinesh was by no means an emotional guy, but he wished Gilfoyle would open up a bit more. He wanted to get to know him better.

 

“I’m going to hook this up to one of the lights now,” Gilfoyle said.

 

 _Oh right, the_ _light bulb_ _._ Dinesh angled his phone’s light toward the ceiling so it illuminated the nearest light bulb. Gilfoyle grabbed a chair and was standing on it in order to just be able to reach the ceiling. Dinesh watched him work, mesmerized. He could tell Gilfoyle loved building and fixing things—even a single lightbulb. And Gilfoyle’s arms didn’t look half bad either, stretched out to the ceiling, muscles occasionally flexing.

 

A few minutes later, Gilfoyle was finished. The light flickered on and Dinesh turned off his phone flashlight.


	5. Two (and a half) movies

“Well, we got a light working. What do you want to do now?” Dinesh asked.

 

Gilfoyle sat down on the couch next to Dinesh. “Do you have any movies on that laptop of yours?”

 

Dinesh didn’t know what to say. Most of the movies on his laptop were obscure science fiction movies, and he didn’t want Gilfoyle to think he was even more of a weirdo. Finally, he remembered he had also saved a copy of the first three _Star Wars_ movies on his external hard drive. Jackpot.

 

“Is Star Wars okay with you?” Dinesh asked, quickly navigating to _Star Wars IV: A New Hope_ as quickly as possible so Gilfoyle wouldn’t notice his collection of science fiction movies.

 

“Sure, whatever,” Gilfoyle said neutrally. Dinesh started the movie.

 

It didn’t take five minutes for them to start relentlessly mocking the movie.

 

“ _But I was going into Tosche Station to pick up some power converters,”_ Gilfoyle quoted mockingly, speaking in-sync with Luke Skywalker on screen. “You know what? I don’t care what they say. Luke is, and will always be, a whiny little bitch.”

 

Dinesh laughed. “At least he’s not as bad as Han Solo. They took an amazing true neutral character and fucked him up by making him another chiched hero.”

 

By the end of the movie, they were barely paying attention anymore.

 

“Oh look, we’ve finally reached the dumb part where Luke is about to blow up the whole Death Star due to sheer luck,” Gilfoyle said, keeping his voice neutral, but Dinesh noticed him grinning.

 

“This is so fucking ridiculous,” Dinesh said as Luke’s ship dodged gunshot after gunshot. “This whole movie is fucking ridiculous. _Star Wars_ is fucking stupid.”

 

“I completely agree,” Gilfoyle said. “Shitty storyline. Shitty characters. Lazy worldbuilding.”

 

“I just don’t get why it’s such a big part of nerd culture,” Dinesh said. “Instead of science fiction that is actually compelling.”

 

“You want to watch the next movie?”

 

“Fuck yes.”

 

At 2am, halfway through _Return of the Jedi_ , they were complaining at the incompetency of the Dark Side when Dinesh’s laptop suddenly beeped loudly. Its battery was nearly dead. Dinesh reluctantly paused the movie (they were only halfway through) and closed the media player window.

 

“Wait. What are those other movies?” Gilfoyle asked.

 

 _Shit_. Dinesh had left his _Movies_ folder open, and now Gilfoyle could see his embarrassingly extensive sci-fi movie library.

 

“Fuck _Star Wars._ Why didn’t we just watch one of these?” Gilfoyle grabbed Dinesh’s laptop and scrolled through the movie titles. “Dude. _Primer_ is my favorite movie.”

 

“I guess we’ll have to rewatch it some other time when my laptop battery isn’t dead,” Dinesh said. Then he realized he’d practically just asked Gilfoyle out on a movie date, and flushed in embarrassment.

 

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Gilfoyle said, smiling at Dinesh shyly.

 

They sat on the couch for a while, not speaking. Dinesh suddenly became aware of the fact that he was pressed up against Gilfoyle’s side. Gilfoyle’s head was resting ever-so-slightly on Dinesh’s head.

 

Dinesh’s laptop beeped loudly again, and Dinesh shut it down. Reluctantly separating himself from Gilfoyle, he stood up and shoved his laptop back into his backpack.

 

“As for the sleeping arrangement,” Gilfoyle said neutrally, pointedly not making eye contact with Dinesh, “Carla’s old mattress is still here. She used to sleep here before she could afford her own place. It’s actually a king size. Funny story. Some old married couple nearby decided to switch to separate beds. They said she could have it for free if she got rid of it for them. It’s pretty big. Really big. It would essentially be two separate beds. Not weird at all.”

 

Dinesh gulped. He couldn’t tell if sleeping in the same bed would be Gilfoyle was a dream come true or his worst nightmare. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d slept in the same bed as another person. Much less slept with a guy on whom he most probably had a serious crush. “You’re rambling again,” he teased, smiling weakly.

 

Gilfoyle just grunted and went to get the mattress, which had been shoved behind a few storage cabinets.

 

“But yeah, I’d like that,” Dinesh said nervously. “Sleeping with you. I mean, not with you with you. It’s a big bed. We’d basically be sleeping in two completely separate beds. Not gay at all.”

 

Gilfoyle laid the mattress down on the ground with a grunt, then went to fetch a single blanket. “Now look who’s rambling.”

 

“Fuck you,” Dinesh said, but any hostility in his words was undercut by him yawning loudly.

 

Gilfoyle went to go disconnect the battery from the lamp. “I suppose since it’s 2am and we have nothing better to do, sleep might be a good idea.”

 

It was pitch black in the room. Dinesh sat down on an edge of the mattress awkwardly. He reached for his phone and turned on the flashlight so he could locate the blanket.

 

Gilfoyle had already taken his shirt off and was currently fidgeting wish his belt buckle, presumably to remove his pants. Dinesh’s face turned beet red. _Of course he looks even better without clothes on._ Gilfoyle’s cheeks looked a shade pinker.

 

“I always sleep in boxers,” Gilfoyle said defensively.

 

“Oh, I think it’s cool,” Dinesh said quickly, “I mean, not _that_ cool. I don’t like it or anything. But I don’t not like it either. It’s...I don’t know, do what you want.” Dinesh considered suffocating himself with a pillow. “I’m just surprised that you’re not cold. I’m freezing.”

 

“You’re wearing long pants and a T-Shirt,” Gilfoyle laughed.

 

“Well, my childhood home wasn’t an igloo in a frozen wasteland,” Dinesh retorted.

 

Once Gilfoyle lied down on the other edge of the mattress, Dinesh turned his phone light off. It was pitch black.

 

Dinesh was too nervous about being in close proximity to Gilfoyle to feel tired. Gilfoyle was motionless, but Dinesh kept tossing and turning.

 

“Can I ask you a question?” Dinesh said impulsively, hoping he hadn’t woken Gilfoyle.

 

“You just did.”

 

“You know what I mean, asshole.”

 

“Fire away.”

 

“Why did you keep ignoring me? At the cafe.”

 

Giloyle exhaled slowly. “Well, I figured you kept ordering shit not on the menu just to fuck with me. So to fuck with you, I didn’t throw a fake tantrum like I do with everyone else.”

 

“Wait, fake tantrums?”

 

“Ha. Oh yeah, that. I actually don’t give a shit about coffee. The only reason I got this job is because I’m friends with Carla and she was willing to let the visa thing slide. I just like to pretend to be a coffee snob so I can fuck with customers who are dumb enough to think this is Starbucks. Which I do actually hate. I guess that part wasn’t a lie.”

 

“That’s actually kind of hilarious,” Dinesh said slowly.

 

“I fucking hate this job. I’d have drowned myself in a sink by now if I didn’t have some way to have fun here.”

 

It was strange, talking with Gilfoyle without being able to see his facial expression. His voice was neutral and steady and Dinesh couldn’t tell when he was being sarcastic and when he was being serious.

 

“You know, if you hate your job so much, you should consider applying to the incubator I live in,” Dinesh said. “You give Erlich—the head of the incubator—ten percent of your app. You get your own room and don’t have to pay rent. Erlich’s looking to fill one more spot.”

 

“There are too many reasons why that wouldn’t work. I don’t have a visa. I don’t have an app idea. And even if I did, I don’t feel like attending useless keynote presentations and attending weekly meetings and all that shit that incubators shove down your throat.”

 

“Okay. First of all, get a visa. You’re a fucking Canadian, it won’t be hard. Second of all, your shittiest app idea will be more than adequate for Erlich. Trust me. Richard’s idea is to create software to check whether music infringes on existing copyright. Artists don’t give a shit about that. They steal from each other all the time. Richard’s a smart guy, but his idea is fucking stupid. And third of all, Erlich’s incubator isn’t like that. We give him ten percent and he lets us do whatever the fuck we want.”

 

“If that incubator is so great, why do you spend so much time here?”

 

“Well--” Now Dinesh was glad it was dark—Gilfoyle couldn’t see his cheeks flush. “I mean, I don’t spend that much time here, I only go during your shifts--” _fuck fuck fuck why am I so stupid_ “--which is obviously just coincidental. Not because of you or anything. Anyway, I originally came here because Erlich was making too much noise in the house giving tours to prospective incubees. If you would join, that issue would be resolved.”

 

“You know, this whole incubator thing isn’t a bad idea.” Gilfoyle yawned. “Good night, Dinesh.”

 

“Good night, Gilfoyle.”


	6. One kiss

Dinesh wakes up to a face full of messy, dark hair. His legs are intertwined with someone else’s. For some reason, his shirt is off. Arms hug his torso tightly.

 

_Gilfoyle._

 

He shut his eyes and willed himself not to move. This was really fucking embarrassing. Somehow, he had let his unrequited crush get the better of him and made a move on Gilfoyle in his sleep. At least Gilfoyle wasn’t awake yet. That meant Dinesh had time to think.

 

Dinesh heard the sound of keys jingling and a door opening. Shortly after that, the sound of Carla’s distinct laughter. “Morning princesses,” she said, cracking up.

 

“Shut up, Carla,” Gilfoyle said, still motionless next to Dinesh. _Does that mean he was awake before me?_ Gilfoyle nonchalantly untangled himself from Dinesh and put on his shirt and pants. Dinesh sheepishly put on his shirt as well.

 

“So you finally told him,” Carla said as she started prepping the coffee machines for the day.

 

“Shut up, Carla,” Gilfoyle said.

 

“I told you it’d go well,” Carla sang.

 

“I said, shut up, Carla,” Gilfoyle said darkly. His voice was slightly rougher and deeper in the morning. That combined with his bed head made Dinesh want to kiss him more than anything— _w_ _ait_ _where did that thought come from._

 

“You have nothing to worry about. Dinesh obviously likes you—I mean come on, he’s eye-fucking you right now.”

 

Gilfoyle turned his intense gaze on Dinesh. His eyes were somehow angry, flustered and worried all at once. Dinesh turned beet-red and looked away.

 

“Hi Dinesh, I’m Carla. I’m pretty much Gilfoyle’s only friend, so he’s been venting to me about his crush on you for the last month or so.”

 

“Shut. Up. Carla.”

 

“I’m just putting you out of your misery, G,” she said mildly. “Well, I should probably set up things in the shop, clean up the glass from the broken window, that sort of thing...I’ll leave you two alone.”

 

“I hate that bitch,” Gilfoyle said, but Dinesh knew he wasn’t being sincere.

 

“She seems pretty cool,” Dinesh said absentmindedly. Internally, however, he was panicking. _Was Carla just messing with_ _us_ _? Or d_ _oes_ _Gilfoyle actually like_ _me_ _? Why the fuck would a guy as cool as Gilfoyle ever lik_ _e me in the first place?_ _No, she was probably just messing with us. Fuck, she knows I like him! How the fuck did she figure that out?_

 

“Regardless, she fucked everything up.”

 

“What, was she lying or something?”

 

Before Gilfoyle could answer, Carla entered the back room. “Gilfoyle. You left your math book out front again,” she said, chucking the familiar red book in his general direction. Gilfoyle caught it deftly and scowled at her, but she had already left.

 

“Wait, what? A math book? That’s way less embarrassing than I had pictured,” Dinesh said confusedly.

 

“No. It’s not embarrassing. It’s fucking humiliating,” Gilfoyle said.

 

“Let me see.”

 

“I guess things can’t get any worse than they already are,” Gilfoyle said sourly, handing him the book.

 

“ _An Introduction to Discrete Mathematics?_ But I don’t understand. Anyone with a degree in computer science should have taken that stuff in college,” Dinesh said.

 

“Well I never finished my degree, and I’m a fucking idiot,” Gilfoyle said. “I didn’t drop out of MIT because it was too easy. Well, the software engineering classes were too easy. I’m a fucking fantastic engineer. I dropped out since I wouldn’t have been able to finish my degree anyway. I couldn’t handle the abstract math shit. Especially discrete mathematics.”

 

Dinesh, surprised by Gilfoyle’s moment of rare vulnerability, remained silent.

 

“I used to not care. But then when I was looking up your background I saw all your degrees in the theoretical stuff. But somehow you’re also an amazing coder. I suppose I felt slightly inadequate. As if you’d want to be friends with a guy who can’t figure out simple math, let alone actually be interested in me...” Gilfoyle trailed off.

 

“This is a prank, right?” Dinesh asked. “You’re just fucking with me, right? You are fucking amazing. You can hack any website and built awesome shit and are a genius coder all in one. I’m not the interesting one here. There are hundreds of me that graduate from prestigious schools every year.”

 

“If that were really true, one would think I would have met a guy like you long ago,” Gilfoyle said.

 

“And putting all this programming stuff aside...obviously I want to be friends with you. Ever since the first day I saw you, where you roasted the shit out of some lady for ordering a cinnamon roll frappuccino. You’re fucking hilarious. And I think you made me gay, or at least bi or something, since I still can’t stop thinking how sexy you look in a T-Shirt and--”

 

Suddenly, Dinesh felt Gilfoyle’s warm lips against his. Dinesh’s brain went into overdrive. Gilfoyle deepened the kiss and Dinesh groaned, pulling Gilfoyle closer. However, a few seconds later, Gilfoyle pulled back. Dinesh was overcome by a wave of disappointment and embarrassment. He wasn’t exactly experienced...had he done something wrong?

 

“You were rambling,” Gilfoyle rasped ( _why does his voice just keep getting sexier and sexier_ ), eyes glinting in amusement.

 

Dinesh laughed. “I’m not sure if this is the right time to say this, but now I’m nearly certain about the whole being gay for you thing.”

 

“What I want to do is fuck you right here on this mattress,” Gilfoyle said, and Dinesh shuddered in anticipation, “but I think Carla would murder us. How does tonight sound, after I close up shop for the evening?”

 

“Here?”

 

“Well, I would take you back to my place,” Gilfoyle said slowly. “But I’ll be moving out of there soon. See, I was thinking about moving into a certain incubator instead...”


End file.
